Having been approached by an erstwhile businessman and led to a mysterious shop of odds and ends, the small group of Argus, Genevive, Kristoph, Kumo, Spob, and a random hobo were assigned the task of investigating a supposedly abandoned house some distance from Doma. The pay seemed fair for the task, so the group agreed and set off.

Leaving the shop revealed that the group had somehow been thrust into a shadowy version of Doma; one devoid of life and far more sinister in appearance and structure in contrast to the Doma they had been standing in only moments ago.

Regardless, the group set off on their task, and for some time, no troubles were encountered. They eventually came onto the outskirts of the old house; surrounding it was an abandoned campsite of sorts. Here were tents, rations, and other forms of military-issued supplies; relatively untouched and bearing the sign of age.

It was here that the first of the group disappeared; the group lingered for far too long, and Spob was taken by an unseen force. Discovering that their group had fallen by one, the remaining five quickly made their way into the house.

The house, initially appearing to be an aged, quaint establishment, soon revealed itself to be a nightmarish maze of sorts. The initial floor, made up of a bedroom, dining room, living room, and hallway of sorts, randomly shifted appearances, furniture, and other details - enough to play with the minds of the inhabitants making their way through.

But the second floor proved far worse - initially appearing to be a hospital of sorts, soon turning into a decayed, nightmarish series of hallways inhabited by a horde of hungry roaches and an armada of zombified nurses, armed with crowbars and a bizarre, spongelike infection. It was on this second floor that Argus and Kristoph were both taken down by the force of nurses and swiftly and painfully zombified.

The hobo, while not killed, disappeared somewhere up here.

Genvive and Kumo remained on the lower floor, but were soon seperated. Kumo, perhaps mentally recognizing the type of situation he was in, changed into his demon form...

Argus' first sensation would be that of a horrible, throbbing pain. This was no simple pain; it seemed to stab at every single pore. His eyes watered and strained under an uncertain source of pressure.

His body shook, soaked as it was in a stinging combination of sweat, blood, and an uncertain substance that smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol.

And as he began to take in this all-pervading pain, his eyes would open.

He would soon find himself in a dark room. A single light, apparently stationed on the roof, shined down on an isolated spot on the ground not far from him. A single drop of blood pinpointed the very center of this circle of this light, and there was little else.

His next intention, perhaps to move, would be swiftly frustrated. He was bound. Arms and legs were both tightly held down by rope, thus preventing any major movements. His head, alone, was unbound, allowing the freedom to look about in the darkness.

Genevive would find herself, still, on the ground floor, somewhere in the supposed confinements of the 'Living Room', complete with chair, table, book, and spilled tea set. She had been separated from her former companions in a rather quick and unfortunate matter, and though she had no real emotional attachments to speak of concerning the lot, it did come as a hindrance to a concerted effort to... well, do something. Prior attempts at escape had failed. An attempt to explore further only seemed to result in scrambling the contents of the surrounding house further. And those who had forged ahead had not returned. She could only presume the worst.

Now that she was left alone, she was free to contemplate further action...

Or she was, until...

There came a noise, and then came a being. From a heretofore unseen pile of dirty soldier's clothes came a... figure, a man?... of some sort. The 'man' was almost absurdly tall. Its body type was one of almost excruciating thinness; the spinal cord of the being, or rather its indention in the 'man''s choice of attire, was prominent from the front. Its choice of attire was that of a blood-stained robe of some sort. Its face was hidden by a shroud of some sort, tied around the neck tightly enough to dig into the flesh and produce a series of dried blood trails.

As the 'man' stood, the sounds of bones cracking here and there could be heared, all emnating from various spots on the Man's form. The legs and arms jerked here and there almost randomly as it stood and glanced down at her. The hands, emaciatingly thin hands carved into the form of claws, jerked spasmodically, in sync with the rest of the 'Man''s form.

A pause came, and then it approached, slowly, but surely. It betrayed no weapons of any sort. Only the one pair of pale, clawed hands...

Kumo, or rather Kumo in his demonic form, would find himself now in the dining room. The dining room showed off all of a single painting depicting a boat at sea, an uncovered and untouched table filling the central span of the room, and two doors: one leading to an unseen room and one leading to the prior room. As luck would have it, he could remember nothing about which door led where.

As he likely hesitated, the lights of the room began to dim. The source of the lights was uncertain - there was no visible lantern or candle present - but just the same, the unseen source was decreasing in terms of light emnation.

As the lights began to dim, Kumo could almost perceive the scrabblings of small, shelled beings almost bumping against the edges of the fading light. Although they were not actually present, Kumo could sense their noise and their form just barely beyond his own sense of perception - chittering noisily and excitedly, jerking spasmatically and making swift, violent motions with what appeared to be a series of jagged sawtooth legs.

Mitsy had traveled to the upper floor with Kristoph. After finding themselves sealed in a room that slowly flooded itself with a swarm of cockroaches, the pair had escaped, only to find themselves assaulted by a swarm of zombified nurses.

Mitsy, realizing when to run, did such and left Kristoph to his own demise, intent on perhaps reuniting with anyone else that remained or simply getting the hell out of there.

As it stood, he had gone down the ladder that separated the upper flower from the lower. He had found relative safety, here; the aged decay of the upper floor did not spread to the lower. A curious scratching noise appeared to emnate from above every moment or so, but nothing came of it.

A quick surveillance of his surroundings would indicate four walls. On each wall was a door. On each door, a number, ranging from one to four. Each number was apparently painted on in a prominent flush of red.

The doors themselves did not betray what lied in wait. Mitsy would have to find out for himself...

Well, this was definitely not a favorable situation to be in. Quite the opposite in fact. Tied down and oh dear lord did he hurt all over the damn place.

Frankly, this sucked.

Really not feeling the urge to voice an opinion on this vocally, he stared up the light, before shifting his gaze down to the drop of blood.

Man, he really wished he had some sort of fancy spell he could cast right about now. Maybe a chant or two to burn the ropes off his hands. Well, sure, he could try forming a fire ball of sorts, but that might not end well, and he honestly didn't feel like he had the energy for that. Since, well, pain of painfulness all over.

Skimming as much of the room as he properly could, he let out a slight groan. "I didn't sign up for this..." Ow. It hurt to talk. Oh how he wished that throbbing all over his damn body would die down, it might make him more motivated to pull full force on one of the damn ropes.

The ropes themselves, while holding him somewhat tightly, could possibly be worked with, depending on how well Argus tussled with them. He would have to overcome the pain flowing throughout his entire body to even begin to contemplate this course of action, but he really didn't have much else to do.

Well. Blood increasing in size for no reason what-so-ever is most certainly on the not normal list. This whole place was though, so, that's a pretty long list at the moment

Although, he began to ponder just how tough these ropes were. Here he was, half demon, so, some ropes shouldn't hold him down that wel-- OW. Okay, thought process is definitely painful, good lord it felt like he was thrown through some sort of magic blender.

Okay. If he couldn't make it so his entire throught process would work, perhaps focusing on just moving one limb would work. Let's go body, tug hard on those ropes with your right arm! You can get loose! ... Hopefully.

So. There we go, oh geez it hurts but come on body move damn you, your right arm is your dominate one, pull that damn thing free already. You've dealt with pain before, sure not this much of it that often, but come on damnit!

(Sorry, folks, a bit busy with exams. Generally, when I intend to post in RPs, I want to make sure I have enough clarity of thought in order to post the best post that I can possibly... uh, post. Anyway, on we go.)

As Argus mused over his situation, the small drop of blood increased in size ever so slightly. There was no visible source for this increase in the blood. It simply seemed to grow of its own accord. And on that note, it expanded ever so slightly once more.

Concerning the pain, it certainly seemed to afflict every pore of his body. Even the slightest of movements seemed to greatly and horribly irritate every spot on his body, which most certainly did not improve his situation.

Moving his body did not seem to key; however, moving his right arm alone, while incredibly and unfortunately painful, produced more of an effect on the ropes that bound him to the chair he was set onto. The more he moved his right arm, the looser the ropes around it became. It went to the extent that his right arm finally freed itself from its fastenings... however, this was at the cost of some lost blood. Apparently, the sensation of flesh tearing had become lost in the sea of pain that had submerged his entire body.

No matter, though. His right arm was now, for all intents and purposes, free.

The adventurous hobo would find that Door 1 would not open, at all. A good bit of struggling with it would produce... well, ultimately nothing. Something of a wasted effort, there.

Door 2 did open. However, the doorframe seemed reluctant to let the door go. Thus tugging the door into an open state was somewhat difficult. Mitsy managed, however, and he got a good look at what lay behind this second fateful door.

A brick wall.

Testing the brick wall would reveal that it had a solid foundation. Judging by the appearance and condition of the over all structure, it had apparently been set in place for some time.

Moving on to Door 3, Mitsy found that it swung open rather easily.

The room beyond appeared to be fairly well-lit, revealing what appeared to be something of a lived in room. There was a bed, several sheets of paper, covered with varying scribbles, and several rotting piles of rotting food in addition to other refuse. The abandoned refuse, for its sake, appeared relatively fresh; while the smell was there, it had not reached the steady funk of items fully abandoned to the flies.

To see more would require further investigation.

Door 4 would open to reveal what appeared to be an external location of all things; from his limited vantage point and by the somewhat dim light of his lantern, he could make out a cemetary of sorts, with several gravestones dotting the grounds. Once again, he would have to investigate further to find out more.

You know, if he could get used to the horrible pain, he might just be able to get somewhere with this. His arm was free, so it was a start, but as he thought, it still was increasingly painful to move at all.

None the less. In a way, the whole ordeal could be considering like being on a high. So much pain was kind of killing his thought process and letting him focus on one thing at a time instead of thinking to hard about his surroundings.

So. Free arm. Using it, Argus began to try and claw off the ropes from his other arm. Sure, it was intensely painful to move, but if he just sat there and wallowed in it, well, he'd likely die, wouldn't he?

As soon as Mitsy stepped through the door, he felt a chill travel down his spine.

If he were to turn around, he would be able to immediately note that the doorframe he had used to enter had up and vanished. So now he was stranded here.

But, from his initial impressions, he seemed correct. Cemetaries were typically peaceful spots, and there wasn't so much as a single unnatural distortion or hellishly zombified nurse wandering the grounds.

It appeared to be a normal cemetary of sorts. A dark sky was above, a fine set of grass carpeted the ground, and a few trees were set here and there.

Looking around would indicate neat rows of gravestones stretching back and forth throughout the land. Having a full viewpoint at this point, he could estimate hundreds, even thousands of gravestones dotting this land.

However, his first point of interest may be the gravestones immediately in front of him. The gravestones immediately dotting the ground in front of him appeared fresh in contrast to their neighbors; the lettering was still highly noticeable and not at all impacted by the process of time. The stone was still in good shape, and the grass around had not gotten a chance to overgrow the foundations of each. If he were to take them in, he would quickly note that not only was there a name on each, but also a line or so of text following.

They were, from left to right:

Argus Devilmen
For foolishly plunging into the unknown.

Genevive Sarith
For fearing what lies beyond.

Kristoph Akina
For gambling a life away without proper cause.

Kumo
For freely giving into the dark without merit.

Mitsy
(There was no additional line of text...)

Spob Nueva
For holding back from a trail that led forward.

Mitsy's grave, as noted, had no additional line of text underneath.

No, the interesting tidbit about Mitsy's grave was the hole set directly in front of it. The hole appeared to be freshly dug, and yet there was no visible 'end' to the hole; it appeared to plunge into darkness.

The pain was indeed present, and felt as if it refused to leave.
The more time passed in the position he was in, the more pain seemed to be rushing in to join the rest. Certainly not a good spot to be in.

Working at the ropes on his other arm and attempting to work through the pain appeared to work well enough; though the ropes being released from his other arm also tore at the flesh and drew a bit of blood, it too became free.

His legs, however, were still tied, and he couldn't very well move without freeing those.

The drop of spit was quickly consumed by the darkness. Even if Mitsy were to bother to listen, he would never hear it coming into contact with any surface down below, out of sight.

It wasn't terribly hard to find a resting place; one of the trees, noted above, was a short walk away from his current location and offered a fairly spacious circular bit of land, free of gravestones, for rest.

Which is, presumably, what he did. Rest. In a sitting form.

The skies remained dark, and zombies were not emerging from their graves. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

What once was 'dark evening' now became 'pitch black night'. The tree behind Mitsy, noticeable only if he bothered to turn, and still partially visible due to the lantern's light, proceeded to turn into a wretched, broken shell of its former self. The very color of the tree appeared to seep into the ground.

However, regardless of whether he looked or not, he would immediately notice a difference in the graveyard before him: several of the gravestones appeared to be shaking... including the one set behind the hole he had utilized as a spit receptacle.

Finally, the ropes on his legs came free. They, took, took bits and pieces of his flesh with them, but this was unavoidable given his intent on escape.

Now that he was fully free and unbound, his pain swelled once more and then seemed to die down, somewhat. It was certainly still there, enough so to make him miserable... but considerably less than there had been under ties. Curious.

Anyhow, he was now free to move and look around, perhaps for a way out.

The pitch black night swiftly gave way to a night stained only by a perfectly opal full moon.

The light of the moon seemed to illuminate a graveyard that was rapidly filling up with holes. Apparently, the graves were sinking and disappearing into the ground. Truly an unusual sight, these stone points gradually being taken away here and there.

As of yet, nothing seemed to be happening... leaving Mitsy with not much to do but continue to play...

As soon as Argus stood, he would find himself in a completely different room.

He appeared to be standing in the midst of an office of some sort, complete with desk covered in neatly organized stacks of papers, file cabinet, water cooler, multi-colored posters on the walsl, and a door just to his left.

A light directly overhead provided enough light to see everything in fairly clear clarity. It was up to him as to what to investigate.

With all of the action surrounding him, he took a moment to take the instrument from his mouth and have a look. Odd stuff indeed. He then licked his lips and went to playing a jaunty little folk tune he'd picked up in Riva.

All there was to say really. Being... teleported, maybe, like that was kind of sudden. Caught him off guard to say the least.

But at least this was a more normal room compared to the last.

Giving the posters on the walls a quick once over, he walked up to the desk, looking at the stacked papers for anything of interest. He wasn't expecting much, but best explore the room he was in first, before wandering off to try and open that door over there.

Waiting alone was boring to say the least. After long enough, Genivive began to pace, observing the room again, rifling through the books. She could, honestly, care less about what had happened to the others, especially that unspeakably sassy catboy. However, being alone was still unsettling. Even the catboy's presence would be better than waiting.

Genevive soon discovered why. The sudden presence of the humanoid...THING in the same room of hers had not gone unnoticed, nor had the fact that she managed to NOT notice the creature or its origin beforehand.

While it had no weapons, it was clear to Genevive that it was not unarmed nor was it human. It didn't resemble anything she had entered the house with either. Clearly, there was only one possible solution to this. The mage frantically looked around and, rather than attempting to address the creature, promptly runs for the first exit to the room she sees.

Mitsy would find that his tunework appeared to be causing the pitch black night to swiftly shift to dawn - the rising sun replaced the full moon, revealing that in the short duration, all of the graves had sunken into the ground.

Mitsy could no longer locate the grave that had been his. He was, effectively, stranded with no remaining visual cues - save a few trees.

Argus would find the posters appeared to be bright and cheery in both presentation and subject matter - one displayed children with bright smiles; the message read "Preserve life - For our children." The other posters appeared to be a variation on this theme - all featured children of some type.

A quick lookover at the papers would indicate not only the name of the apparent owner of this office - a Dr. Malcom - but also a date that predated the present by at least fifty years. Further text followed. It was up to Argus whether he wished to read or not; the text appeared to stretch on for some point from there.

Genevive would find a door just leading past the comfortable chair - it opened up to something entirely new - a flight of stairs leading down into pitch darkness.

She may hesitate; however, the sound of the Man approaching could be heard, and said noise was close; the sound of clicking and cracking bones could be continually heard as it roamed onward towards her...

He hated making important choices, it was always such a hassle. But none the less, he shook his head at the posters, before starting to sift through some of the papers. That door wasn't going to go anywhere, so he might as well check out what was right infront of him first.

Argus would immediately note something very interesting about these papers, beyond the fact that they were dated 50 years back.

No, it went deeper than that - these papers were medical forms, detailing the personal information, symptoms, and length of stay of various patients. From what he could tell, most, if not all, of the people detailed in this stack were mercenaries or wanderers of some sort - many put their so-called occupation down as such.

The symptoms of each patient followed along the lines of extended nausea, headaches, blindness, and the like. The listed cause of symptoms was simply referred to as 'persistent infection' or 'disease'.

Finally, there was apparently a zero survival rate - each patient died, regardless of any efforts made by the doctor or nurses.

At that very moment, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching the other side of the door...

Argus found that the office held no chance of escape. The door was sealed and was thus rendered impossible to open. And though he had a variety of magical spells and attacks at his disposal, they were of no use here. He was trapped.

Mental desperation began to set in somewhere around the end of the first full day spent in this room. Intent on finding some sort of clue as to how to escape, Argus once again looked over the various papers located in the room.

It was at this point that he found his own name and description filed away on a sheet also dated 50 years hence. This startling discovery seemed to transplant Argus from the seemingly safe office room and into an entirely new environment: that of a still wet-with-blood hospital bed surrounded by the zombified nurses of before. Needless to say, the fate that he had seemingly escaped once before came back to him.

Any trace that existed of Argus simply... disappeared.

***

And so, Mitsy was indeed stranded. His music still caused the skies to shift, but there were no further changes in the environment. Any holes that had existed in the ground prior were now gone, leaving him in an alien land with no way out.

Although he would find food by way of the trees that grew, blossomed, and produced fruit through the utilization of his instrument, he never was able to find a way out of this graveyard.

He, as well, was never seen again.

***

Kumo made his choice and selected a random door. The door was locked.

In desperation, he tried at the other door. This door was locked as well. It seemed as if no escape was possible.

He did his best to try to break down both doors, or perhaps break through the surrounding walls. They resisted his efforts. It was so that he found himself trapped in a room that was soon filled with the darkness.

And with the darkness came a pain.

Regardless of how much he filled his stomach, he could not eat enough.

Genevive had no choice but to scale the stairs downward. Turning back was certainly not an option... the being that filled her with an almost interminable revlulsion prevented such. And so she made her way downward, through the dark, running and putting on as much speed as she possibly could.

As she touched the floor just beyond the flight of stairs, she found herself plunging downward, flipping head over heels... and ultimately plummeting into what appeared to be a pool of liquid, felt like an overly viscuous pool of a mysterious sticky substance with an oatmeal-like texture, and smelled of rancid meat.

There had been enough light to observe the pool that she had fallen into, as well as enough light to discern the fact that the 'water' itself was overbloated with a multitude of rotting corpses, presumably having influenced the texture and smell of the fluid.

She could attempt to swim north or south from here; both opened out onto different paths, though what lay ahead from either was unclear.